


The Duel of Fates

by Vilyamir



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:18:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilyamir/pseuds/Vilyamir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disturbing dreams can lead to unexpected reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly influenced by the Unfinished Tales version, in which Turin's feelings towards those around him seem more emphasized ...Combined to what I wanted to happen at some point in the story..well, it came to this.
> 
> Possible errors in grammar&phrase construction

The days had grown darker…Darker than his long winding hair, darker than the cutting steel of his sword…  
‘A helpless maiden I am…and nothing more’, she told herself in the darkness of her room. Why did she wake in the middle of the night?...What had she dreamt about now?!....Oh, those sleepless nights, when evil, scary, tentacular thoughts creep ever in the chambers and under the beds of the purest maidens…  
She had dreamt of scorching fire and a foul breath of a thing that was hidden to her sight…also dreamt of screams and laments and stones crumbling to ashes…What was there to come?... She couldn’t see that in her dream - only the feeling that she was running out of time persisted long in her mind.  
“I’m helpless…I dream and he will never listen to me. They will never know..he will never believe me…’  
She rose from the bed, opened the door to her chambers, bare feet…and rushed out in the frozen corridor.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………..  
He was sitting by the tall, moonlit window, watching owls fly in the fading, silvery light…Yes , it was indeed a splendid realm, its vast halls entwined like a complicated, jeweled crown . It made you want to preserve it, to make it endure…for it was easily for Men to see that they will ever dwell under the wing of such worthy protectors . But Men could be everything all the other races of Arda were, if not for their brief existence. Oh, how he wished he could have the healing skills of his friends, so that he could sometimes repair wounds and broken bones…and heal sometimes a scattered soul, just because pity stoke him often….He thought of everyone he knew , dead or alive, except her.  
The thought of her, he had left it for the final hour of the night.  
Finduilas…Finduilas…so much a queen to a homeless Adan warrior like him…..so much a girl who needed protection from the homeless Adan warrior …and so much more a maiden worthy of the highest and purest feelings ….”I wish I could feel her in my arms just once, just to make her scent invade me and lure me until the great end…as I feel so alone and with no one to throw my arms around me anymore….” He continued to think of her slender form, such laziness when in contemplation of the stars…Of her blossomed lips and her moist eyes, wide and gleaming as a lake in the sunshine. Of what he should have as a man of his age, and not daring to ask; his mother would have surely told him – would she have been here with him – that it was about time to have heirs…  
“I am a sword, the doomed sword, I have to be so, they all need me : I cannot stay my hand, it will burn me if I do…Yet I cannot stay beside her either, for it burns me already, not having known other woman so close.. and yet so far away from me..’’ “For she must be my queen, as queen Melian was, as a mother….as the kin I never truly had…”  
“…and who am I to ask for such treasure ? he continued in his mind. I heard her on the marble terrace when singing about Beren One-Hand and Luthien the Fair. I understood. I must not, cannot give her what she seeks….”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………..  
Finduilas followed the light of the torches, walking unseen and unheard until she faced the heavy door of his chamber. She bent to take a look through the keyhole: she felt a tiny current making her eye sting – his window was open…he was awake..  
“Who is there?”…she heard the voice - the voice she wanted to hear.  
She glided through the crack of the door. White and pale as the early morning mist. Turin stood up in surprise, with a first and instinctive thought of worrying.  
-Princess Finduilas…..what is the matter ? what troubled you so? he began to make a few steps in her direction, hands opened wide, then Finduilas slowly approached, like a breath of air, and halted in his arms, circling him tight and trembling.  
He sighed in understanding.  
-Again, Thurin : I dreamt again of death and fire and ashes…This time I saw you there…my father,  
and all my people… she whispered with fright.  
It will come, Thurin, war will come very soon, you at least must believe that!....I am tired to warn you all….  
-War will come, I deem, whether we dream of it or not, dear friend…” said he, taking her hands and making her sit down in a chair front of him, while putting one knee in the ground, keeping her hands still in his . Am I not taking measures in defending our people? Nargothrond is preparing for the worst, yet we shall be confident in our strength, for our powers now could nonetheless match the enemy.  
-Maybe it is so, as you say, but my dreams tell me of something hidden in the dark, something that will bring the very doom of our realm” Finduilas searched his gaze, fixed it and waited for his answer.  
-Dear friend, let us not torment our minds with such awful thoughts, not now in this hour when hope must be high in our hearts “. Turin let her hands loose and crossed his arms on his chest.  
-I do not want to lose hope, Thurin …And somehow my heart tells me you should have a care…in those dreams of mine I see you also in that consuming fire…as if something is searching for you .  
-I should find it first, said he, raising to his feet and going to the window.  
The moon was now waning; a blur around its silver plate, and wind began to blow. He shut the windows and turned to Finduilas.  
She was now standing near him, with a dreamy look upon her face, whitened still by the setting moon.  
“A dream, he thought, she is nothing but a dream …and all she dreams makes me feel so helpless…”  
Without moving, Finduilas began to speak, eyes set on the moonlit sky:  
-Thurin friend, I am sorry to have disturbed your previous thoughts, before my coming here…But I had to come, and you know I did this every time I had those dreams: to my father and ..Gwindor…  
She paused and it seemed to him that he could read her mind :  
-Oh Finduilas, I know you cannot restore Gwindor’s strength, but he will overcome his darkness in your light, said Turin with warmth. I cannot feel your pain, but I also had other pains, and Gwindor saved me from such a one . He’s worthy of everything we can offer him.  
At his words, Finduilas stood silent. It almost pained her to hear him speak lke that. Could it be that he had never seen the light in her eyes, light that betrayed her heart to him? Yet he was right and spoke fairly. He cared about them. Like friends. Hhis best friends.  
Turin turned around and found her looking deep into his eyes. His haunting eyes…two pools of mistery…..of fierce will….two endless nights…  
He held her gaze…her eyes from another world, where one could just imagine the beauty and bliss…her eyes like the sheen on the pool of Ivrin…  
He moved one arm, surrounded her waist, letting it resting there as in a dream…and then moved his other hand and brushed her long, golden hair from the top of her head to her waist, saying : Faelivrin, in your light all the pain and darkness fade away….beautiful dreams can come true and deepest wounds are healed. For your face brightens my days and your voice guides in peaceful nights…I would I had earned your concern as a brother, for I hold you as a dear sister and friend that I may never have the chance to meet again.  
And to himself he said : “…..and never will, the chance to hold you as I do now, and breathe your scent and feel you in my arms as I dreamt not long ago..” but kept his words.  
The heart of the princess sank: “Oh beloved Man, she said to herself, you that made me loose myself from the moment you were brought here. …oh Thurin…”.  
Having no other answer, she leaned her head on his chest, waiting for a rejecting gesture. Instead, his fierce embrace came as a relief. She sighed and let herself drown in his arms. They stood without moving, without breathing. Turin was floating in the elvish dream that seemed to invade all space around him…No, he had to wake up and became the sword.  
He turned his face and opened his mouth to speak - he found himself close to her lips : her scent intoxicated him…his gaze was suffocating her …  
Their mouths touched and melted in a single breath.  
The candles flickered in a last struggle to keep the fading light on their faces…In the darkness of the first hour of dawn, their kiss deepened, liberating, coming from their abyssal hearts….Whose brother and whose sister? It was a hunger of souls that no mortal nor god above and below could withstand, nor appease. Words losed their meanings, behaviors and races faded away…It was their brightness that lit the room, their happiness of finding the truth.  
Suddenly they stopped, like the ending of a mighty storm.  
They caught each other’s hands, looking into each other’s eyes without a blink.  
“Good night “they heard themselves say, Finduilas running out of the door and Turin falling on the bed and hiding his face.  
She stopped abruptly behind her closed door. She was so spent! She was so lost! She knelt and started to cry in silence…hot tears rushing on to a large, silent, unrestrained smile.  
Barely managing to climb her bed, her eyes quickly closed their gate and soon after the sweet wings of sleep hurried inside.  
He stayed as frozen for a while, then rose slowly and touched his face and lips. He dreamt? He did not! It was a storm of enchantment that came out of the window. It was a spell of forgetfulness. It was the uttermost desire. It was the will of his heart.  
“Mother, her hair is straight and golden!“ a merry voice called from inside - a boy who discovers the sun in the fields of green grass.  
“Father, don’t let me drag her down in my abyss.. ” the voice returned to bitterness and sadness.


	2. Chapter 2

Finduilas was sleeping. Somewhere outside a storm gathered its thunderous heralds: heavy and fuming clouds - powerful oxen driven by the wind.  
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Gwindor watched her motionless sleep. He was whispering words, meaningless words, a never-ending song..  
He knew it too well, the reason of her weakness, the desolation of her spirit : it was the black shadow of a tormented soul. But he also knew that her sleep was part of her visions; part of her wisdom that overwhelmed her and drew her each time closer to exhaustion.  
Her sacrifice was great for an elleth of her age, even for an elda having spent his long ages within the circles of the world.  
He knew something else as well : he knew pain and torment, not only the passing torment of the body but of the spirit, which was hardest to endure. Still he had the force to escape from Angband, but how will she escape from this ?....The answer came quickly in his mind : she had to face everything she was dreaming about – then and only then she will be redeemed .   
He decided then: the saving truth will maybe change the course of her visions, so that she will no longer suffer, at least not from one of these reasons. He knew the name of one reason at least: the doomed son of the captive captain, lord of Dor-Lomin.  
She will have to face it. Otherwise it will bring her to her death.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….;  
-For how long had I lay thus? asked the elf- maiden.   
-Oh, for days and nights, my dear daughter, king Orodreth replied. The Valar may have blessed you with this gift of foresight, yet I deem this is an unbearable burden, child. You must rest and become strong again, war is coming and we must be prepared in all matters; Mormegil sends scouts every day far off in the woods; until now only rumors and skirmishes…  
-Does he also go out to battle?...said she, a drop of fear in her voice.  
-Yes, most of the time. He does this realm the greatest service, and I could never repay it….My daughter, Gwindor stayed with you all this time, the king changed his tone.   
-I know father…Finduilas sighed, turning her eyes towards the wooden carved ceiling. Orodreth grabbed her frail fingers and sighed in his turn.   
…………………………………………………………………………………………….  
He paced the hall of council. Its emptiness resounded in his ears, yet its corners were still echoing with the loud voices that were raised a short time before.  
The messengers had come from the borders of the sea and have brought words of Ulmo the Vala, to be poured into the fearless hearts and fill them with suspicion. War will not be waiting anymore, it seemed; a warning had been send thus, that the bridge over Narog should be cast down and stop the warriors of Nargothrond to give open battle to the whatever forces the enemy would sent.  
That he would not suffer! That bridge has to stand before the mighty elven doors; it will carry them to great battles and make them win their glory on the battlefield, they could prove themselves, let the enemy know that they will never wield! …and protect all that dwell inside. Their mothers and daughters, their wifes and lovers…..Finduilas…   
Prey to foreboding dreams, spending the light of her fea to the burden laid on her fragile, white-marbled shoulders – she could see the what-have-to come! she could maybe reveal the deepest in the hearts of Elves and Men…could she? Could she read, within his earthen depths of the heart, the yearning for a bright, pure, deep, enthralling love?   
Gwindor came standing in the shadows, leaning on one of the columns, looking at Turin with pity. He could see his face, darkened-eye and grim, and he thought he could have already read his concern.  
-Turin, he whispered.  
At his own name, Turin turned around violenty, startled:   
-Who calls me that?....Gwindor..why did you call my name? why do you want the walls to hear this name of doom?  
-It is not your name, my friend, that calls doom upon you. These walls are for the moment deaf to our speaking, so I could call you by your true name in honor.   
-It would be better not to do it, friend. But tell me, what are you doing here at this hour? Did you not mean to see Finduilas in her chambers?...The king said that she awoke from her deep sleep, alas! without much hope…Tell me, did she dream again of evil creatures and war ?  
-Her inner thoughts are none’s concern, how could you know of her dreams?...asked Gwindor thoughtfully, looking at Turin with growing suspicion. Have you troubled her with questions?   
Turin didn’t answer…he could not tell Gwindor about their sleepless nights when the golden elleth came to his chamber and cried soundlessly in his arms, talking about her nightmare visions …nor , by no means, would he tell her betrothed about the night when they kissed under the fading moonlight. He only hoped that their sudden closeness would not have been the source of her illness…Although he deemed it true, and grew afraid, and tried to avoid letting her see him from that moment on.  
But to Gwindor’s question he only responded:   
\- I heard the king speaking of his daughter’s dreams…and with so much concern, that I put in my mind the thought of war which should be fought in this realm – a fierce battle, or all the suffering of your people and mine will be in vain!  
Gwindor seemed to fairly hear the words of the Adan warrior, yet it made his heart sick and troubled with he knew not what strange feeling….A shadow was upon Gwindor also, for he had dwelt too long in Angband, surrounded by tormenting shades of fear. Turin was young and bold, and his eyes were haunting….be it in a cold or a flaming glance. This young child of Iluvatar was doomed, but he also was made of an inner fire that could not burn into the Eldar: it was not enduring but consuming, and unattended could burn both the owner and those who would come close to him.  
His fire, though, was sincere, and bright, as it was brief in the reckoning of Life: a lifetime of Men meant little to the Eldar, yet Men sought to live it to the full. Such was the son of Hurin, and for that reason he was not to be hold guilty.   
-I see, said the elf…You won’t listen to the words of the messengers…It is a doom indeed, the one that floats above your head. Your desire to fight this war shall bring us all to ruin, son of H…  
-Be silent, I beg you, and do not speak again the names of my kin! Not in this hall, not in this realm and not anymore under Sun and Moon!   
He threw Gwindor a flashing, cutting glance and fled like a raging storm.


	3. Chapter 3

Turin strode to the great gate, stormed the guards who didn’t try to hinder him, and on he went on foot, over the mighty stone bridge and into the small wood on the steep river bank, stopping under a tree. He was unarmed and missing the feel that the hilts of Gurthang gave him when in rage - he had laid it on his bed in his chamber.   
With a quick movement he turned around : he was not alone. On the other side of the tree, sitting on the edge of the grassy river bank, Finduilas was unbraiding her golden hair. She was humming a song, sweet and sad. Down the bank, on a rock near the river, a guard was also sitting on the slippery moss, spear in hand, looking absently away to the roaring water.  
Turin sat still hidden behind the wide trunk of the tree, as if he was a hunter in the woods, having stumbled upon a helpless deer and trying not to scare his prey away. Finduilas was sad and dreamy, as she was often of late. She was pale and yet her eyes gleamed in the sunlight wide and green, a hope of spring that was blooming already in the woods and on the hills.  
He seemed to hear his name: his given name, Thurin, the Secret , as she named him lately. But something was changed: the speaking his name was slightly different - she whispered his name in the right manner. Turin, as his mother and father used to call him. Maybe the distance made the name sound misspelled, and yet…  
He drew near, without the slightest sound, continuing to follow her movements and pondering in his mind how to draw her attention without making the guard noticing him. This thought made him feel like in his early years, a young boy blundering through the woods of Doriath, with Nellas following his every step. He did not remember much on that elf-maid, instead he remembered too well the strange sensation of being followed by unseen eyes. Somewhere inside him, he admitted that creeping behind trees and acting as a silent hunter gave him a pleasant feeling. Did the Elves of king Orodreth felt the same when spying the enemy before the attack?...  
..And suddenly he stopped: Finduilas was nowhere to be seen. How did she manage to escape his sights?. He stayed his pace, looking puzzled. Where did she go?   
Soft and firm hands seized him, covering his eyes. He almost stumbled backwards into her arms, but an instinct made him stand his ground.   
-Finduilas, he said. You here….  
-Shhh, you will alert my guard, said she, putting a finger on his lips. She faced him, smiling teasingly. Then she took him by the hand and carried him under trees and bushes, not very far away, not very near of the river. Then she stopped and took a look at his face.   
-You are at a loss my friend, she giggled. Have I frightened you so?  
-No, you didn’t, I was…following your voice, and you disappeared so quickly ..  
-Well dear friend, I wanted to make you smile. I saw you when crossing the bridge and putting aside the guards, so I knew something was troubling you. But no more of these troubles now, I am well now and don’t want to hear of sorrows and awful dreams. Though you didn’t even care to come to my chambers and watch me in my sleep.  
The colors on Turin’s face changed slightly, and he hardly restrained himself not to take her in his arms and bury his face in her hair, just to hide away….  
-Your absence will be noticed, said he.   
-Let it be so, she answered boldly.  
A strange warmth crossed over Turin’s heart. He looked down at the slender, golden elleth before him, who was plainly teasing him with her childish gaze, ready to laugh and give herself without a second thought.   
-Finduilas, said Turin, you should not be lingering here, far from the gates. Even with the guard, it is too much a risk and you have barely rose from bed. It will tire you and your father will be most worried.  
-Thurin Adanedhel, said Finduilas with courage, I know what you shall have me do : spend my time far from you, so that we can never have that chance of staying so close to one another. You think of Gwindor whom you love as your friend and rescuer, you think I cannot read your mind. I do it often, or so I feel…I know already your answer to my previous question : you didn’t came to me, because you were afraid.  
-I didn’t come, princess, I would have not disturbed the healers, your father, your betrothed.. I had to led scouts in these woods.  
-How could you have possible disturbed anyone? Are you not welcome everywhere in these halls? Or might I guess a reason closer to the truth? …  
-You should know full well my reasons, Finduilas. You see, I am but an outcast, homeless, bereft of my kin, I owe my coming here in your house to Gwindor, whom I love but whom I also oppose when councils are held – because I speak my mind, because these matters of war are also my concern, because a man must be true to his heart. And now I do not understand that change in him – he is searching for me at times, to speak of some matters I cannot guess.   
Now tell me, how could I face Gwindor knowing…  
-…knowing that you held me in your arms and kissed my mouth? Finduilas continued in his stead. That night, awful night of haunting dreams, I sought for you, trying to warn you about the horror I saw coming for this realm, yet it wasn’t the only reason…. Now let us not speak of this anymore, please Thurin, said she. Her finger pressed again on his lips, then traced his mouth, his chin, his jaw, the line of his neck and one single strand of raven-dark. He stood still, held his breath, all the anger and desire to oppose to others beginning to crumble.  
-I cannot deny that I dream of you in every moment, she said. I have a gift, they say ; a gift of foresight. I would that you were my betrothed, to taste your mouth without remorse, to hold your hand whenever I want to and in full sight of the entire court, to share my heart and all that I am with you. I speak now as I never will, and afterwards I shall be too ashamed to face you indeed, if that was what you wanted after that moonlit night we shared. But my heart warns me to let you know all of this before it is too late.  
Then Turin perceived the circle forming around him as the line of the horizon when dawn breaks the skies. And in his heart a storm was preparing, making him uneasy. A weakness enveloped his senses, opening a small crack in the defenses of his soul. Her right arm entwined with his own like lazy ivy growing around a vigorous oak tree. He leaned towards her and murmured with uncertainty:  
-Undying love is too precious a gift for a mortal cast in the doom of war. I am only a sword for this realm .. Long I have looked upon you as any Man should do in my stead: a fair queen of the Eldar, standing always beside her own kin, unveiling her endless beauty over a realm of bliss. I yearn for the home I once had, maybe perished in the waves of war, so at least I could do that : to preserve your own. But the more I yearn for my home, the more I would not be parted from your light.  
He turned to face her, breathing steadily, touching, and trailing his fingers on her skin. He looked deep into her eyes, like a man that has to take a high jump over an abyss.  
-I shall bring woe to everyone around me by confessing this to you, but I shall not go back now: I would never take back your kiss from my lips, nor would I hold on back from your love. You have my mortal heart, Faelivrin. Now you know it.  
Then he didn’t restrain himself anymore; he reached for her face, cupped her cheeks and opened her lips with his mouth. His kiss came like a great wind from the sky, a swirl of tenderness and rage, catching her frail body in his arms, pressing her hard against him and leaning her towards the soft couch of grass. She resisted at first, being afraid to continue, but when he loosed himself in tasting her and encircled her with his strong arms, she realized that Men have not such a different way of understanding love.


	4. Chapter 4

Waves of light in the high sky invaded the forest: an unknown brightness came down sparkling over their heads. The gold around them made them broke the embrace. ….  
-Princess Finduilas! Shouts were heard not far away in the forest. Princess, where are you?!  
The clear crystal globe formed around them broke suddenly into countless sharp pieces. Shouts came to them, turning to growls, and a clashing of swords.  
-Orcs! Turin startled,, his face becoming stern and ferocious. -Your guard, he’s been attacked! Quick, come!  
Finduilas had time only to grab her long, foaming fabric of her garment and let herself being dragged by the arm, trying to match her pace with Turin’s.  
-To the gate! Go now! Go! he shouted, letting go off her hand and watching for a brief second as she was crossing the silvery bridge in despair and fleeing through the doorsteps of the hidden fortress.  
Then turning to face the enemy coming only steps from behind, he tore a thick branch from the closest tree and shouted once more : - Orc-raid! To me! To me!... ….and a raging storm of blades and maces rolled down from high above, over Turin and the small company of door-guarding elven warriors who came hurrying to his call. The clash was harsh and soon blood flowed the once quiet clearing in the forest. These Orcs gave their opponents no time to draw breadth, and for their ferocious blows and their enraged attack the elves began to draw back and Turin’s arm soon came to hurt from the continuous waving of that tree branch, defending himself as he could…  
Suddenly a flash of silver gleamed in the forest, the clearing was invaded by ringing shining swords and Gwindor’s voice was heard over the great tumult: - Kill the creatures! Kill them all!  
He bore only a spear : no helmet on his head, no shield nor armor; and even thus exposed, his eyes showed no fear and no restraint from attacking his foes. He tried to break the wall of orcs and to reach the Man knelt in the grass and defending himself desperately, while around him elves were struggling to hold their blood-stained ground.  
Elves surrounded the Orcs, armed and ready; in minutes, fighters were clenched at others’ throats : elven swords and orkish blades clashed and cut deep wounds. Blood spread freely in ruby rivers across the grass.  
After a while, the Orcs began to draw back, little by little: the number of the elven attackers grew and soon pushed the creatures beyond the border of the clearing and farther more, beyond the forest. ..But Gwindor did not follow his companions, and remained behind to seek for the dead, the wounded and for the Adanedhel.  
-Mormegil! shouted Gwindor in a broken voice, trying not to lose balance and shivering from the fight : he saw Turin leaning against a tree, blood covering his garments. -Were you wounded ?...  
-It’s not my blood... Gwindor.. How comes that you went out to battle? Where are the Orcs?  
-Driven out, for that I am certain, friend. Gwindor knelt near the tree, and took the tree branch, torn in Turin’s hands. - Mormegil, I have been searching for you all morning in the halls of the king …never thinking I have offended you so earlier…and never thinking you were facing such a great danger in the woods.  
His eyes felt suddenly, like he was puzzling something : - Finduilas came in distress, crying for help : she burst into the king’s chambers and told us you and her guard were attacked by Orcs. What happened here? said Gwindor, lifting his eyes and looking deep into Turin’s.  
The warrior froze for the briefest instant: those eyes were looking into the depths of his soul. Elven sight was far more foreseeing and their perception was indeed keener and wiser than that of a mortal man.  
-She was here, , he said. She had a guard; I met her when in my way to these woods, seeking peace and mind-clearness. I saw her run to safety when the Orcs came: thus she must have arrived without harm in Nargothrond .  
Turin rose up to his feet, avoiding Gwindor’s gaze and hand, held towards him : - I thank you again, Gwindor friend… you saved today more lives than you know ..and all those who were lost in this unexpected skirmish…Though a battle would be more fitted for all that happened today at the gate of the realm.  
-I am well aware of what I have saved , my friend…Gwindor’s voice whispered as he turned around and followed Turin, helping him lift the wounded with the others, and carrying them back to the king’s halls.


End file.
